


Kintsugi

by Mother_North



Series: Obscure [6]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blame this on Kim Ki-Duk, Dark, Endgame Daisuke/Yuzuru, M/M, Male Friendship, Psychology, Rentboys, Sexual Content, Swearing, Symbolism, and my overdose on his movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 05:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: “Love knows no virtue, no merit; it loves and forgives and tolerates everything because it must. We are not guided by reason…”― Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, “Venus in Furs “Here comes the final installment of the “Obscure” series.





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to express my sincere gratitude to all of those, who were following the series and for all of your feedback (constructive criticism included). All in all, I feel that it was a fulfilling journey and some priceless experience for me as an author.  
> A couple of words concerning the title of the fic: Kintsugi (or Kintsukuroi, which means “golden repair”) is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with a special lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Beautiful seams of gold glint in the cracks of ceramic ware, giving a unique appearance to the piece. This repair method celebrates each artifact's unique history by emphasizing its fractures and breaks instead of hiding or disguising them. Kintsugi often makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, revitalizing it with new life. 
> 
> **  
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full and it is not meant to offend anyone.  
> Additional disclaimer:  
> 1\. This work is absolute, total, complete FICTION, where all of the events take place in ALTERNATE universe (not even our beloved one, guys ;)) and in which MAJOR (more like major x 10) OOC is present.  
> 2\. Tags are there for a reason and the story explores dark topics and disturbing situations, which sometimes are getting pretty nasty…It is YOUR sacred right as a reader not to like it, not to start reading it or to ditch reading it anytime you feel like it and it is MY sacred right as an author not to censure it, not to compromise it and to mold it in whatever way I feel to.  
> 3\. I APOLOGIZE in advance if the “Obscure” series as a whole or this story in particular somehow upset you!

**

Boyang was scanning the hall of the nightclub: the sight — all misty and blurring, his eyes distinguishing silhouettes of numerous bodies, moving and moving and moving, as a single animate wave under the epileptically blinking lights, colours of toxic pink and vibrant violet making the surrounding world seem one huge narcotic hallucination. Typical Saturday night —  _stupefying_ ; pummeling, hard beats assaulting eardrums, mouth constantly going dry and vocal chords aching due to mostly futile attempts to outcry the deafening music. Boyang downed his fifth shot of tequila, gullet burning. He didn’t intend on drinking too much, not at all…It just came naturally in the hazed, semi-delirious reality he found himself in on that evening. He turned round short, noticing Johnny W.’s grinning face right in front of him. His companion was wearing his hair up, silvery glitter all over his cheekbones, liquid lipstick smeared in the left corner of his mouth. He made a gesture to the bartender, pearled nail lacquer shining in the dim light of the club.

“Two “Margaritas”, darling… _Nasty boys_ are thirsty tonight!” He winked at Boyang, his flamboyant appearance and manners being nothing new to him.

Boyang smiled back, thinking that his chances of getting wasted by the end of the evening increased significantly with the sudden appearance of a certain notorious _Johnny W._ He looked at his acid-blue electronic wrist watch, noticing that Yuzuru had been late for more than half an hour already.

“Hey, Johnny, have you seen Yuzu somewhere around?”

Johnny’s eyes widened and he looked at Boyang as if the latter had declared his desire to become a monk on the following morning, no less.

“Of course, who fucking didn’t…Moreover, I bet practically all eyes are on him now! You scare me sometimes, Boyang. Your woolgathering is getting out of hand, boy! Just look there, kid!”

Johnny motioned to a circle of turbulent mob at the dance floor, gathered around an obviously improvised “pedestal” in the form of a brought-in table, made of transparent plastic. Yuzuru’s svelte figure could be seen dancing on it as though there were no tomorrow.

Boyang’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was elbowing his way through a crowd of heated, convulsing bodies, wild cheers and encouraging shouts reaching his ears through the wall of punishing dance beats.

Yuzuru was sliding his hands all over his upper legs and shapely hips seductively, bending and wriggling about provocatively, the languor of his movements being in strange dissonance with the fast-paced industrial music.

Boyang blinked — once, twice.

The sight of Yuzuru was burnt on the back of his eyelids: slightly moist skin of his bared clavicles and long neck glistening under the intricately-shifting versicolored lights, his each pore oozing carnality. Yuzuru was worrying his lush lips with teeth, making them seem obscenely red; the air around him seemingly thickening with palpable tension, greedy stares from all around _devouring_ him.

Yuzuru looked absolutely wild — pupils dilated, slender arms caressing his perfect body slowly, as if in a state of trance. He was shamelessly exposing himself with every flowing motion — presenting at once an enticing and a decadent vision, which made Boyang curse under his breath, feeling both thrilled and concerned.

“Fuck…Look at this boy doll, I’d sell my soul to get into those tight pants of his!”

Boyang called out Yuzuru’s name but it was left unnoticed, swallowed by the surrounding, overly enthusiastic clamour. A thin sheen of perspiration was making Yuzuru’s skin glow, after he had taken off his black t-shirt in one deliberate movement.

“Yuzuru!”  Boyang’s voice drowned in the sea of cheers and whistles. He felt his sleeve being tugged at forcefully, the fabric of his sweatshirt stretching.

“Hey, it seems like you know the guy! Actually, I have one hell of a proposition for him!”

The man speaking had his dark hair slicked and was wearing a suit which looked worthy of Boyang’s monthly earnings. Boyang was watching the man’s thin lips move without uttering a word.

“My name is Massimo and I am the owner of the _“Velvety Paw”…_ I bet you must have heard about the best fucking strip club in the whole district! Listen, this boy is amazing — the way he moves and his doll-like appearance…I would like him dance in one of our _cages_. He’s got some great potential, trust me, I’ve got a trained eye…”

Boyang grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“This guy has a job already, don’t worry about it, man…Actually, he is working for _me_.”

Massimo frowned, a look of mild bewilderment crossing his face.

“Oh.”

Boyang didn’t have any intention to dwell on the topic further, finding out whether the man in expensive suit had bought his blatant, swiftly-conceived lie.

Without giving it a proper thought and acting on pure instinct, actions being mainly dictated by his alcohol-infused, clouded mind — Boyang jumped upon the table grabbing Yuzuru’s semi-naked, squirming form into a strong hold.

He was mouthing words right into Yuzuru’s ear harshly:

“What the heck are you doing..?! Wanna get into a mess?”

“No, I just want to have some fun… _Real fun_.”

Notes of anise-flavoured absinthe were distinct in Yuzuru’s hot breath and Boyang winced. He couldn’t remember he had ever seen Yuzuru be that drunk.

“Do _they_ want me, huh..? Do _you_ want me? Answer me!”

Yuzuru’s voice was laced with unhealthy excitement and such desperation, it made Boyang’s throat constrict.

“Stop it, Yuzu. Let’s go, please.”

He picked up Yuzuru’s previously discarded t-shirt and gave it to him; afterwards, dragging him off the improvised “stage” while ignoring the jeering crowd stoically. Surprisingly, Yuzuru didn’t resist, arms hanging limply at his sides.

“Let’s get out of here! I think it is enough for tonight.”

Blame it on adrenaline surge or something else but, all of a sudden, Boyang felt almost sober, his rationality returning slowly. He had to ask Yuzuru why he was acting so reckless, his self-destructive ways gaining on the upper hand. Boyang noticed that Yuzuru had been uncharacteristically quiet lately, reserved into his own shell, a seldom smile aimed to ease Boyang’s worry often doing exactly the opposite. A couple of times he made attempts to start a heart-to-heart talk but it was to no avail. Boyang felt they were not as close as they used to be anymore. It unnerved him greatly and he had a strong gut-feeling that the change had occurred after Yuzuru’s last meeting with the “black Porsche” special client.

Yuzuru’s whiny tone jolted Boyang out of his reflections.

“No! Let me go! I don’t need a baby-sitter!”

Yuzuru was throwing daggers with his eyes but the only thing Boyang wanted was to wrap him in cotton wool, his usual protectiveness over his friend finding its way into the pleading look of his eyes.

“Yuzu, please…Stop acting the ass….for once.”

Yuzuru opened his mouth to reply — obscure sparkles at the bottom of his intense eyes — only to be clasped into a pair of strong arms from behind completely unexpectedly. A tall guy of heavy build with hazelnut-coloured eyes and brown, curly hair cooed somewhere into the juncture of his neck and shoulder without an ounce of fake modesty:

“Care to spend some quality time with me, babydoll. I saw you dancing… Just out of this world, really… I promise you won’t regret.”

A single glance at the guy made Boyang’s stomach twist in knots for he resembled a _certain someone_ quite uncannily. He felt his blood boil. Shoving the stranger roughly, Boyang nothing but snarled at the big man:

“Fuck off!  Can’t you see he is with me already…”

Yuzuru burst into a fit of uncomely giggles, wrapping his body around the man’s muscular frame unsteadily.

_“Surprise me.”_

Yuzuru’s voice was languorous and he was clapping his eyes flirtatiously. Boyang felt a wave of nausea sweeping over him.

They big guy gave Boyang a crooked, condescending smile, placing his arm around Yuzuru’s tiny waist possessively.

“See you later, _sucker_. I guarantee your precious…friend will be satisfied.”

Boyang rushed forward in contempt of a danger of having his nose broken. He was pulled back by, seemingly materialized out of nowhere, _Johnny W_. — a look of sincere concern written all over his refined features.

“Slow down, Bo. Let him go…He is a big boy already.”

Boyang watched Yuzuru’s frail arm snake around the man’s shoulder, leaning into him close, their bodies touching at the hips, as they were walking out of the main hall, into more private areas of the club.

_It seems he has decided to reach the high end of low._

Boyang’s throat constricted painfully, bitter tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

_Just let him._

_Just let him go, Bo._

Tequila burned his insides but not hard enough to scorch out the vestiges of his doomed love.

**

Yuzuru’s head was spinning and he felt his skin crawl with the strange tingling sensation spreading all over his overheated body. It was hellishly hot and, if he could, he would have peeled off his very skin in the blink of an eye. His heartbeat was pounding in his eardrums monotonously and he felt on the verge of suffocating, sensing the slide of a drop of perspiration down the back of his neck disturbingly vivid.

_Am I in hell..?_

His mind was seemingly refusing to cooperate fully— dazed by a deceptive magic of the _“green fairy.”_ The corridor of the club was illuminated with ominous red light which looked surrealistic, like a setting in an opiated dream or a high-resolution still picture from one of David Lynch’s psychedelic movies.

_A Lost Highway to the Black Lodge._

No less.

Yuzuru found himself pinned against the wall roughly, a pair of chapped lips assaulting him, wiry arms roaming over his body unceremoniously. He closed his eyes tightly, his consciousness floating somewhere above the two squirming bodies. The peculiar smells of man’s sweat and aroused body were mingling in the air, which seemed to be compressing around the two of them with each passing second, making it hard to take a proper breath. He felt as if he was melting like a docile wax under the crude caresses of the stranger.

Yuzuru took the man’s face into his hands, looking into his lustful eyes, searching for a heady tint of hazel warmth in them or for a liquid ray of _the_ _Spanish sunlight_ , hidden beneath their glassy surface.

The man grinned, staring at him conspicuously.

“What? Want to get ravished, princess?”    

Yuzuru gasped, feeling the man’s raging erection press into his underbelly hard, his shaking fingers beginning to fumble with the zipper of Yuzuru’s black skinny jeans impatiently.

“I bet you can’t wait, babe…But I am going to eat you out first…Want to taste you so fucking badly.”

The guy sank to his knees in front of Yuzuru, yanking his jeans and underwear down with one unguarded motion; Yuzuru’s head hanging low, strained fingers digging into the hard surface of the wall, he was trapped against.

The moment the man gave the head of his semi-flaccid cock a first, deliberate lick, he was pushed away abruptly. The big guy lost his balance, legs splaying on the floor clumsily — a dumbfounded expression on his glistening face.

Yuzuru shoved him with all of the might he had the ability to muster up at his current condition. He was struggling to pull on his clothes as swiftly as possible, wanting to get out of the damned place desperately.

“Hey! What the fuck, dude..?!”

The guy tried to grab Yuzuru by one of his ankles, as he was walking past him — his quick steps faltering, the surroundings swirling in front of his stinging eyes in a whimsical torrent of toxic snap-shots; past and present mixing in equally confusing proportions, rationality dissolving itself into a haziness of his mind.

He had hit rock bottom, reaching the point of no return, something inside of him _altering_ irreversibly, the invisible cup being overbrimmed, at long last.  

Yuzuru ran out to the dark street, through the back doors of the club, slumping down to the ground wearily — legs giving out and palms scraping against the hard pavement.

Night air, washing over his heated skin, made him shiver but it felt incomparably _better outside_. He clenched his trembling fingers around a turquoise butterfly pendant and tried to tear it off from his neck but instead ended up crying brokenly, with his knees drawn up to his quivering chin.

 

Sour tastes, greasy fingers, alien touches, reeking breaths, pulling arms, submissively bent knees and crawling feet…Thrown away dignity, self-esteem going down the drain in an agonizing moment of total subjugation.

_No more._

Sweat-soaked sheets and entangled, contorting bodies, seeking warmth in any available orifices, praying for salvation and withering under the cruel light of another meaningless morning…

_No more._

A shiny barrel of a gun, a copper taste of blood, a husky voice of a _sun-kissed_ man in his ear, groaning out sweet praises, their entwined bodies moving as one, riding the high wave together — only to crash against the shore brutally in the aftermath of their short-lived bliss…     

_No more._

Yuzuru headed to his rented apartment that night, for the first time in the longest while.

 

**

Yuzuru put on a cream-colored apron of his barista uniform, silently getting ready for a shift in the tiny coffee-shop, situated in the outskirts of the city. He smiled at the waitress _Magda_ , who winked at him good-heartedly.

“Looking good today, sweetie! Want some dark chocolate truffles before we get started?”

“No, thank you.”

Yuzuru shook his head, calmly titivating himself at the glass. He sniffed at the translucent skin of his wrist, which now seemed to be smelling of coffee constantly. He was watching the red-haired woman polishing varnished surfaces of round tables, a turned on TV on the wall serving as the back-ground noise.

“….The man was known in criminal circles under the nickname “ _black dwarf_ ”, his real name being Felipe Montoya. It is reported that he had been shot during a police raid into an underground casino. The shooting that ensued ended with several visitors getting injured…”

Yuzuru bit his bottom lip hard, crumpling a towel he was holding in his hands.

“Is something wrong? You look like you have just seen a ghost…”

“No, no! Everything is fine, Mag!”

Yuzuru knew that he must have sounded cornered, his fake smile looking painfully unnatural.

“Then why don’t you help me with the cleaning. We are opening in twenty minutes.”

“Sure.”

Yuzuru kept on reminding himself that he had nothing to do with any of the persons, who could be possibly involved in that _shady_ _world_ , anymore. He was no longer a part of _that_ life. He hated the way his heartrate sped up at the mention of someone related to his past. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Magda’s surprised voice.

“Hey, Yuzu! There’s a man outside, wanting to see you and insisting on a cup of coffee before the opening time…Such a _weirdo_ but his smile has won me over…Damn, your friend is a real dreamboat, to tell the truth…”

Yuzuru stopped paying attention to the woman’s rambling, staring wide-eyed at _Javier,_ standing at the doors, which Magda had already opened for him. He was looking bone-tired, his jawline sharpened and eyes lackluster. He was wearing a worn-out leather jacket, a pair of his aviators tucked at the collar of his t-shirt.

He was just as attractive as ever, nevertheless.  

“One cappuccino with _vanilla_ syrup, please… The more milk the better.”

Yuzuru sensed Javier’s eyes boring through him, taking in his features, seemingly aiming to dissect him with their laser-sharp intensity. Yuzuru wanted to say at least _something_ but he could only stand there wordlessly, feeling his thoughts racing chaotically inside his head, as if his tongue became paralyzed, all of a sudden.

Finally, Javier disrupted the terribly awkward silence hanging between them. Yuzuru noticed the older man’s expression turning a tiny bit softer.

“I am happy to see you. I really am…Don’t know whether there’s something else to say, though… I have to disappear for a time, you know — keeping a low profile and stuff. I just needed to see you. Don’t ask me _why_ , I am not sure I can answer the question myself… I just want you to know that _I am happy for you._ ”

Yuzuru lowered his eyes, Javier’s quiet voice permeating into his soul, apparently reaching his very core. His lips formed only three words but he did mean each one of them:

_“Please, take care.”_

Javier clenched Yuzuru’s pale fingers in his for a fleeting second, before taking his hand away as if it had been scalded.

A wistful smile distorted his features.

“I will.”

The door of the coffee-shop closed behind the man, who had taken the remnants of Yuzuru’s former life away with him, leaving only some soon-to-be-dim memories in his wake.

 

**

After the end of his shift, Yuzuru met with Boyang in the local park, not being quite himself still. His friend was sitting on their favourite bench, waiting for him patiently, and the ingenuous expression on his face made Yuzuru feel better at once.

The afternoon was drawing in slowly — golden rays of the setting sun making everything bask in pleasant but elusive warmth, shadows of the trees growing longer. Boyang was telling Yuzuru about Johnny’s W. recent arrest by _the Catcher_ (which followed their reckless, common acquaintance’s whole night binge drinking) and of his latest visit to _Kikuchi-san_ , the old man asking Boyang to give Yuzuru his regards.

Yuzuru thought he had to pay his old friend a visit the other time, missing the unspoken knowledge of his piercing eyes and the soothing quality of his quiet voice.

_You won’t be able to run forever._

The phrase, the old man had once told him, echoed in his mind with an astounding clarity.

_I won’t run anymore._

 

“Shall I run you home?”

“No, there’s no need, Bo. _Daisuke_ will take me home, his workday ending in half an hour. ”

Yuzuru noticed the way Boyang pursued his lips.

“Do you honestly think it might work out…I mean you and he?”

“ _Honestly_ , I don’t have the slightest idea but I have decided to give us a try... Yes, it is our _nth_ _try_ but I just couldn’t not to.”

Yuzuru remembered vividly the day Daisuke appeared in the crowded coffee-shop he was working at. He fell down to his knees right in the center of the hall, amidst wooden tables, not giving a shit about numerous gaping visitors, his shoulders sunken and head tilted low in resignation. He uttered not a single word of forgiveness back then, only looked up at Yuzuru — _eyes black with pain_ — gut-wrenching _need_ and _despair_ in them making Yuzuru tremble.

Boyang hugged Yuzuru tightly, before getting up to leave.

“I hope you know what you are doing, Yuzu.”

“I hope so too, Bo.”

Yuzuru looked at Boyang’s receding form, fresh evening breeze seeping through his clothes. He heaved a deep sigh.

 

Yuzuru didn’t know if they would be able to undertake the journey down the thorny road of mutual redemption, _building themselves and their damaged relationship carefully_ — a brick after a brick, taking one step at a time, while licking each other’s wounds and trampling out the fire, in case it threatened to get out of hand…

It was never easy and it would never be but Yuzuru was willing for them to at least give it a try, wanting to start anew — _from the very point all hell broke loose._

Yuzuru glanced at his wrist watch, thinking that Daisuke may appear any minute now; reminiscences of the past few months flooding his mind, as he kept on waiting for his fated lover.

 

Daisuke standing at his door on one particularly stormy night, not having a dry thread on, with a pitifully mewling pitch-black kitten held close to his heart.

“Do you really want _us_ to go away?”

Yuzuru stepped aside, letting them come into his cozily-dry apartment.

 

Daisuke running his long fingers through Yuzuru’s disheveled, sweaty locks, his honey-dripping voice ghosting over Yuzuru’s sensitized skin, making it break into a string of goosebumps.

“Crucify me, put me to death, make me bleed at your feet and I’ll come back to you still…I’ll be buried in you, Yuzu — shrouded in a winding sheet of my love for you…I could die happily then…”

Yuzuru put his delicate finger to Daisuke’s quivering lips, knowing that the man sometimes tended to be _a bit_ over-dramatic.

“There’s no need to die, Dai… Do you remember it’s your first working day at an _absolutely_ _normal job_ tomorrow? I suppose you’ll have some extra points if you appear at their office in time and in one piece…”

Daisuke indeed managed to get to his work in time on the following morning, albeit looking tired and severely sleep-deprived.

 

Yuzuru spotted Daisuke’s yellow and red scooter of a pizza-carrier from afar, smiling to himself at the sight of flashy rhinestones on the man’s flamboyant cap, which were decorating an inscription “ _Jazzy Pizza_ ” all over its surface.

He got on the scooter behind Daisuke, pressing to his form and sliding his arms around the older man’s waist.

“Care to take your _epic_ cap off?”

“For what reason? It may seem ridiculous but I am quite proud of it… Where shall we ride tonight, my little _kitsune_?”

“I think I have one place in mind, Dai.”

 

**

Waves were licking the vast, sandy shore of the beach meekly, sunset over the sea painting the violet bruising of the darkening sky with hues of red and gold. Yuzuru was listening to penetrating seagull cries, as his heart began to beat violently from a barely discernable feeling, blooming inside his quickly rising and falling chest.

He cast a glance at Daisuke waiting for him near his scooter at a distance, the other man’s eyes refusing to leave him for a minute.

Pulling out a Murano glass butterfly pendant out of his pocket, Yuzuru watched its fragile wings sparkle — fading sunrays getting caught in their turquoise depths only to be reflected onto his pale skin immediately.

_It was beautiful._

Yuzuru took a deep breath before throwing it away into the murmuring sea waves — as far as possible, both of his feet sinking into the sand pebble.

_Fly now_

 

 

**

THE “OBSCURE” SERIES

COMPLETED ON

2018/08/18

**Author's Note:**

> That’s all Folks!


End file.
